


Untouch Me

by Achrya



Series: UnVerse [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, And Clint and Pietro test it constantly, And Coulson is still kind of a fanboy, But it's gonna be ridiculous dirty and I regret nothing, Daddy Kink, Death, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Natasha will eat you if you're mean to Clint, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Steve Rogers is a vampire activist, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick asks Coulson to come to Triskelion, the supernatural community hidden in Brooklyn, to help ‘keep the peace’ he jumps at the chance. He thinks it’ll be a simple job, mostly territory disputes and domestic stuff, and Coulson could use 'simple'. Then bodies start dropping, the job proves to be rife with political bullshit, and he should have known Nick never called him for Simple. And that’s without mentioning Clint Barton, his new (very human and very mouthy) subordinate, and Pietro Maximoff, Clint’s equally mouthy witch boyfriend. </p><p>Or: The one where Clint and Pietro want Coulson to be their daddy and Coulson is pretty sure he wants no part in their games. ...okay, maybe he'll just watch. As soon as they figure out these murders. Featuring Pretty subby princess Pietro, sassy BAMF human Clint, and always in control and kind of irresistible Coulson. </p><p>Exists alongside <em><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4629684">Unbreak me</a></em> but you don't have to read both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untouch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Set after Unkiss Me and alongside Unbreak Me, but is vastly different in tone and content. Set in my fledgling AU: ‘Unverse’, where everyone lives in Triskelion, a city set in a small dimensional pocket in Brooklyn, founded and run by Fury and Natasha for non-human/monster types. Unkiss/Unbreak are both very Stucky/relationship centric and the world at large plays a smaller role, but I want this one to be more world focused. Also outrageously filthy, eventually. *glares at the plot*  
> TL;DR: Kinky threeesome supernatural/urban fantasy cop mystery. All the themes!

When Fury called with the offer to take on what was basically a law enforcement position in Triskelion Coulson accepted it right then, over the phone, without so much as thinking it over. Admittedly not his finest moment, consider what Fury was and how he operated but in his defense he hadn’t been in the best frame of mind for a while and was really tired of Canada. It was fine in small doses but he was getting restless. 

Besides he more or less trusted Fury. Sure the guy was a literal devil (and some suggested the actual Devil but that was slightly more credit than Coulson was willing to give Fury. Only slightly.) and his idea of fun was making deals with mortals in exchange for their life force and then sending Natasha to rain down vengeance and pain on anyone who tried to back out of their deal, but Coulson had never known him to screw over anyone who didn’t have it coming.

More to the point Fury had never expressed any interest in eating him and Coulson had yet to wake up to Natasha standing over him with a flaming sword or fangs dripping with venom. Not that Fury and Natasha wouldn’t use him for their own ends (they would and had) but that was just an hazard of doing business and he accepted that.

Triskelion was an amazing project, something that hadn’t been imagined or attempted before Fury and Natasha had made it happen. Most non-humans kept to their own kind, assuming they weren’t completely solitary, either hiding amongst humans if they could pass and hoping to never be discovered or in their own closed off communities as far as they could get, conceivably, from everyone else. That was the way things had always been, though things were harder for the non-humans who looked non-human because there was less space than ever to hide, and had been the accepted way of life.

Then Fury had carved out a tiny plot of ‘land’ in what he called an ‘outside of reality pocket’, picked up some open minded representatives of some of the different races, and Triskelion had been founded. Fury said he wanted a place where they could come together and work towards common goals instead of being separated and constantly scrapping and fighting for territory. It was one thing to hide themselves from humans, outnumbered as they were, but it was another to live like lepers or animals.

A city within a city, tiny pockets of reality that created space right alongside the human world, out of sight and yet not, and it allowed all the monsters to reach out, to have permanent homes without the fear of being chased or burned out, to live lives like the humans did.

Of course not everyone had agreed. Feathers had been ruffled, toes stepped on, and bodies hidden on occasion (Coulson would know, he’d done a lot of the ruffling, stepping, and hiding) but Triskelion was thriving and growing twenty years later, and three similar cities had popped up in attempts to follow Fury's lead.

There was Asgard, in Europe, barely three years old and growing steadily under the leadership of Odin.

Genosha, an island off the coast of Africa, though it differed in that they were still isolated from humans and seemed to prefer it that way. Where the citizens of Triskelion could pass back and forth between the veil as they needed the ones on Genosha were basically cut off from the rest of the world permanently when they set foot on the island. Nick worried about it, kept an eye on it as best he could, and seemed to think Erik, the man in charge, was up to something.

The Raft had been on the west coast but it was gone now and the sting of it’s failure was still fresh.

Coulson supported the idea behind Triskelion and it’s offshoots and had from the beginning. He’d been there when Fury had started casting the runes and formed the space from nothing but mist, fire, and blood.

It was a whole new world, or a new chapter at least, and it was steadily growing. Fury and Natasha had to create more space and build more every year, and to that end the fact it existed outside of reality helped since expansion was technically limitless. Growth was good, it meant business, trade, numbers, and that more people were coming around to the idea of a unified non-human community.

But that also meant more people to watch other, more potential for exposure, more chances for someone who didn’t uphold the non-violent ideals to slip in, and more people to keep in line, which was what Fury wanted Coulson for.  

Natasha handled all the disputes that happened, it came to her naturally after all, but she was also helping Fury run the entire community and ran the day to day stuff with SHIELD. She needed more bodies on the ground and Coulson had been one of her first choices.

Which was flattering and also made Coulson wonder about himself just a little bit. It wasn’t everyday an Erinys deemed you worthy to help met out punishment and justice.  

He was in New York and crossing the veil less than 24 hours after Fury’s call. It involved turning down the alley between a chinese restaurant and a laundromat and, if you belonged, you’d exit the alley in Triskelion and if you didn’t you wouldn’t.

The last time he’d been through he’d told Fury it was very Harry Potter. The next day he’d been sent out to The Raft to help with the ‘groundbreaking’ and hadn’t been called back since. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the two things were related.

Realistically his small nervous breakdown and very brief descent into insanity (It was barely worth mentioning, really, but a lot of people seemed very hung up on it) had more to do with how long he’d been gone.

He hits the street and takes a second to let everything wash over him. It doesn’t look much different than any other neighborhood would; brick apartment buildings, storefronts, busy sidewalks, though there are less cars than you’d find elsewhere. Triskelion is only so big, 20 or so blocks last he’d heard, and for those who moved between this world the human one there was a subway stop not too far from the alley protecting the veil.

The only thing that made Triskelion different was the people. It was a Saturday and around noon, the sun was high in the sky, and the streets were packed. Creatures milled all over, a population more varied than he could have thought possible once. It was a crowd full of colors, wings, claws, hooves, horns, and various languages.

He smiled a little at the sight before sliding into the crowd and heading in the direction of the address Fury had emailed him. There was an apartment ready for him, the same one he’d lived in before he’d left and he expected he’d find it in more or less the same condition.

Putting him somewhere else or having changed his apartment would have been like admitting he wasn’t expected to come back and that wasn’t Fury’s style at all. Coulson was a tool, a willing one and damn useful, but a tool all the same and Fury didn’t relinquish his tools easily. Loaned them out occasionally and let them roam around in Canada and the North-Western United States to systematically kill people during the course of a psychotic break, sure, but he always intended to collect them eventually.

It was a plain red brick building; he’d lived on the third floor in a simple two bedroom apartment. His key still fit and when he pushed the door open he found it smelled faintly like stale air and dust, but not as badly as he’d expected. The curtains were pushed back and the windows were open; someone had been airing the place out.

“Coulson.” She was sitting on his couch, steaming mug in hand, bare feet on the coffee table next to a pile of folders. He frowned at that and she laughed while putting her feet on the floor.

“Natasha.” He crossed over to the living room and sat across from her on the loveseat. “No Fury?”

She made a show of looking him over, lips pressed into a thoughtful line, and he knew he wasn’t going to get an response. “You look good.”

He snorted at that because, really, he’d looked the exact same for the past twenty years and ‘good’ wasn’t the word he’d use. Plain, unassuming, forgettable, much like the building he lived it, yes, but ‘good’ not so much. And that wasn’t a complaint; being able to blend in and make people look through him, past him, was part of why he was so good at what he did.

She, on the other hand, looked very good, just like she always did. Petite with dark red hair falling around her face is soft waves, snakelike green eyes, pale skin, and dressed in form fitting black. Her claws, wings, and fangs were hidden, he didn’t see a gun anywhere, and her sword was in it’s scabbard, hanging from her belt. If not for the eyes she’d look human.

The lack of weapons was as close to a display of trust as she got.

“I had everything you’ll need to update yourself on what’s changed since you left.” She gestured to the folders, all business. “Lots of new faces and some new people on the council. The witches, in particular, had a serious shift. Amora was removed last year, and the Maximoff twins stepped in.”

Everyone answered to Fury and by extension Natasha in the city, but each of the races with a large enough presence had a representative on the council to bring grievances and make sure their concerns were heard.

He remembered Amora and wasn’t surprised she was gone; she’d been the head of covens because she’d had the most power, not because she was a good leader or had the respect of the other witches. Outside of Triskelion being the strongest worked but inside things were a lot more...political.

“And we have vampires now.” Her lips quirked upwards which was the equivalent of looking downright gleeful for Natasha.

He didn’t say anything, just blinked at her. Vampires were, and there was just no polite way to say it, assholes. If there was one thing every member of the non-human community agreed on it was that vampires were hated and had no place in polite society. Trolls and ghouls (Ghouls, who were little more than disgusting scavengers and would pick the bones of any corpse clean, even that of another ghoul) were considered more acceptable than vampires. They only cared about blood and sex but were endlessly hungry for both. They couldn’t be sated no matter how much they drank or how many people they slept with, the desire for more was always there.

Coulson didn’t blame them for being what they were but vamps had always been kill on sight for him. It was, really, sheer luck that they rarely bred and even more rarely turned others because a single vampire left unchecked could decimate a small town in a matter of days. (It was also lucky, and a little known fact, that vampires tended to think other vampires were assholes and they were prone to killing each other.)

“There’s a little one, Steven, who brought in the others. He lives one floor up, actually.” Natasha said it in a way that told him that had been a deliberate move on her part. “Doesn’t hunt, says he’s never killed or hurt someone to feed, and as far as I can tell he hasn’t gotten laid since he’s been here.”

That was, as far as Coulson knew, impossible and if a vampire was managing it they were someone he wanted to take a look at because he couldn’t think of anything that would be more impressive off the top of his head.

“Okay.”

“Be nice. I like him.” Natasha smiled, thin and sharp. The threat was as loud as if she’d shouted it. “It’s a lot of information, so I’ll be giving you all day tomorrow before I start sending things your way.”

He glanced at it; it was easily thirty folders and they each looked to hold a considerable number of pages. “I’ll be done by morning.”

“That’s why you’re in charge.” She smirked. “Once you step in I’m stepping down and it’s all on you. You’ll have full discretion to do whatever you feel is best for the community without checking in and Fury will back your plays, whatever they are. There are five others who will answer to you. Melinda May-”

That made him frown slightly. Last Coulson had been aware Melinda had retired to Asgard with her husband. 

"Grant Ward, Sam Wilson, Riley Scott, and Clint Barton.” She stopped, gaze going hard. “Barton is a human.”

It wasn’t completely unexpected, Fury wasn’t some militant human hater by any stretch, and some of the monsters did breed with humans so it was only a matter of time before some ended up in the city, so there had to be more to it than that for Natasha to using that ‘One wrong move and I will pump you full of venom, paint my nails while your insides liquefy, and then drink you like a juice box’ voice. (And in Coulson’s case she’d do it over and over and over because he was unfortunately resistant to death. Permanent death. So far at least.)

“And?”

“You’ve heard of the Iowa hunting party? Hawkeye and the Soldier?” She plucked the bright purple folder for the top of the pile and pushed it across the table. He didn’t pick it up, too busy staring intently at a spot just above her head.

He had heard of the Iowa hunters, as had just about any non-human who didn’t live in a cave or another continent. There were two hunter parties of note in America, one in Iowa and the other in Washington. He’d dealt with the Washington hunters quite a lot over the past two years. (They were a strange group who worshipped a hydra and had no interest in striking deals with non-humans, which was an interesting contradiction.) The Iowa group he knew of but had never encountered any hunters claiming to be one them. Then again he didn't generally exchange a lot of words with hunters.  

Hawkeye and the Soldier he was also aware of: the best hunters the Iowa pack had to offer, efficient and ruthless. The rumors were they’d wiped out entire vampire nests, were packs, and taken on demon pods without ever using magic or needing more than just the two of them. The Iowa hunters, and Hawkeye and the Soldier in particular, were the scary stories he’d heard people telling little creatures to impress upon them how important behaving and not exposing what they were to humans was.  

“Barton was Hawkeye. This isn’t public knowledge and I trust you’ll keep it to yourself. He’s been here for two years almost with no problems and he’s one of the most knowledgeable people around when it comes to all the different types of creatures we have here.”

“I’m duly impressed by his ability to do research before he murdered us.” He said blandly and it might have even been the truth.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed and her lip pulled back just enough to let him see her fangs had dropped. He could almost picture the milky white venom he knew lurked in them gathering. She didn’t normally go for such blatant threats, preferring off hand comments and jokes like before; for Natasha to be so obvious meant she cared. No, it meant more than that. 

It meant she cared enough that she was willing to risk letting him know that she cared. He filed that away to think about later.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

He flexed his hand, a strange mixture of warm metal, dragon scales, and maybe a phoenix tear or two (He’d never asked exactly what Stark had made the thing out of but he could dimly recall Pepper hovering by his bedside, crystalline tears falling to shatter on the ground. There were few things that were as powerful as the freely given tears of a phoenix, so he wouldn’t have been surprised if Stark had used them because the hand really was a work of art.) that almost felt right but also wasn’t anything close to right.

He thought about silver chains, fire, the sounds of children screaming while they burned, and the feeling of gasping, choking, drowning in his own blood.

“No.” He smiled coolly. 

That might have been the truth too. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *mutters about plot set up and how it detracts from porn*


End file.
